Avon Fantasy Reader No. 8 — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

16 . ss ROBERT EF. HOWARD sweeping in to despoil her of her plunder. But from the gunwales of the ship a dark shape rose, soaring away over the jungle. “The devil-ape has been investigating the ship,’ muttered the blacks uneasily. “What matter?” cried Bélit with a curse, raking back a rebellious lock with an injpatient hand. “Make a litter of spears and mantles to bear these jewels— where the devil are you going?” “To look to the galley,” grunted Conan. “That bat-thing might have knocked a hole in the bottom, for all we know.” He ran swiftly down the cracked wharf and sprang aboard. A moment’s swift examination below decks, and he swore heartily, casting a clouded glance in the direction the bat-being had vanished. He returned hastily to Bélit, superintending the plundering of the crypt. She had looped the necklace about her neck, and on her naked white bosom the red clots glimmered darkly. A huge naked black stood crotch-deep in the jewel-brimming crypt, scooping up great handfuls of splendor to pass them to the eager hands above. Strings of frozen iridescence hung between his dusky fingers; drops of red fire dripped from his hands, piled high with starlight and rainbow. It was as if a black titan stood straddle-legged in the bright pits of hell, his lifted hands full of stars. 7 “That flying devil has staved in the water-casks,” said Conan. “If we hadn’t been so dazed by these stones we’d have heard the noise. We were fools not to have left a man on guard. We can’t drink this river water. T'll take twenty men and search for fresh water in the jungle.” She looked at him vaguely, in her eyes the blank blaze of her strange | passion, her fingers working at the gems on her breast. “Very well,” she said absently, hardly heeding him. “I'll get the loot aboard.” The jungle closed quickly about them, changing the light from gold to gray. From the arching green branches creepers dangled like pythons. The warriors fell into single file, creeping through the primordial twilights like black phantoms following a white ghost. Underbrush was not so thick as Conan had anticipated. The ground was spongy but not slushy. Away from the river, it sloped gradually upward. Deeper and deeper they plunged into the green waving depths, and still there was no sign of water, either running stream or stagnant pool. Conan halted suddenly, his warriors freezing int basaltic statues. In the tense silence that followed, the Cimmerian shook his head irritably. Go ahead,” he grunted to a sub-chief, N’Gora. “March straight on until - you can no longer see me; then stop and wait for me. I believe we're being followed. I heard something.” | The blacks shuffled their feet uneasily, but did as they were told. As they swung onward, Conan stepped quickly behind a great tree, glaring back along eGcomichoo